Sunlight poured into the guest suite the next morning, warming the white sheets where Jake and Skip stirred awake. After a quick rinse and breakfast on the patio—fresh fruit, strong coffee, and still-warm croissants—Martin and Daniel leaned back in their chairs, both looking relaxed but purposeful.
“So,” Martin began, “here’s the plan for the day. We’ve arranged guest passes for you at our gym downtown. Nothing like a pre-party pump to keep everything sharp.”
Daniel added, “After that, the day is yours—lounge by the pool, soak up the sun. Just don’t forget the SPF.” His eyes twinkled. “And keep those speedos on. We wouldn’t want to ruin those tan lines… and cotton tails.”
The boys exchanged a quick glance, half-curious, half-amused, but nodded eagerly.
“Got it,” Skip said. “Pump, sun, SPF. Easy.”
The gym was all glass and chrome, cool air humming from vents overhead. Jake set up at the bench press while Skip loaded plates for squats, both working through the kind of routine that had become second nature. Yet their minds kept circling back to breakfast.
Jake wiped sweat from his forehead. “Okay, so when he said, ‘be accommodating and friendly’… how far you think that goes?”
Skip racked the bar with a clank, laughing under his breath. “Yeah, I caught that too. I mean, obviously smiles and charm, but… they had a tone, you know? Like maybe it means more than just topping off champagne glasses.”
Jake nodded slowly, curling dumbbells. “It’s Palm Springs. Whole city’s kind of… suggestive.” He smirked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Skip grinned, then lowered his voice. “And what about the ‘cotton tails’ thing? You hear that?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, setting the weights down. “At first I thought he meant like bunny tails… but then I realized he was looking straight at our suits when he said it. Maybe it’s… something to do with the way speedos ride?”
They both laughed, shaking their heads.
“Whatever it is,” Skip said, heading for the cables, “sounds like we’ll find out soon enough.”
Jake grinned, following. “And until then, we just do what we do best—look good, lift heavy, and keep it fun.”
The clang of weights and the thump of music filled the space as they pushed through their sets, but both boys couldn’t help replaying Martin and Daniel’s words. The mystery hung between them, equal parts challenge and invitation.
By early afternoon the desert heat was in full swing, dry and blazing. Jake and Skip returned from the gym flushed and satisfied, chugging water bottles as they stepped into the cool quiet of the house. Martin and Daniel had vanished off to run errands, leaving the boys to their own devices.
In the guest suite, they kicked off sneakers and rifled through their bags for fresh swim briefs. Jake peeled off his shorts, tossing them onto the chair, and bent to dig out the neon-blue speedo he’d packed.
That’s when Skip looked up, blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter.
“Bro! OMG—I just figured it out. Cotton tails!”
Jake straightened, puzzled. “What?”
Skip pointed, still laughing. “It’s the tan lines. Look! All bronze everywhere, then—bam! Two little white asses. Like cotton tails.”
Jake glanced in the mirror, twisting to see. The sharp contrast of his sun-bronzed back against the pale strip below his suit made the joke click instantly. His jaw dropped before he doubled over laughing.
“Oh my god, you’re right. That’s exactly what they meant!”
The two of them collapsed onto the bed in fits of laughter, wiping tears from their eyes.
“Dude,” Skip said between chuckles, “that wasn’t a warning, that was a compliment.”
Jake grinned wide, tugging his new speedo into place. “Palm Springs approved. Guess we’re more on-brand than we realized.”
Skip flexed in the mirror, still grinning. “Cotton tails and all.”
Then his grin shifted into something more curious. “Wait… you think at some point during the party they’ll actually expect to see our cotton tails?”
Jake smirked, running a hand down his hip. “You mean, like, not just implied but… bare?”
“Yeah,” Skip said, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, with all that ‘be accommodating and friendly’ talk… what if it’s part of the vibe?”
For a beat, they both stared at each other—then cracked up again, falling back onto the bed.
“Bro,” Jake laughed, “if that’s the case, this gig just got way more interesting.”
“Way more fun,” Skip agreed, sliding the glass door open to the patio.
Still grinning, they stepped out into the desert light, bright speedos glowing against their fresh tans. The pool shimmered like glass, the loungers beckoned, and they sank into the afternoon with the shared thrill that something memorable was definitely coming.
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